Burying the Skeletons
by scorpiaux
Summary: Recovering from a serious concussion and still unable to connect with the spirit world, Korra's future is especially bleak in a world where bending is extinct. A balanced world is a necessity, but first, she must remember her name. Rated M; KorraxMako, KorraxAsami, Multi-Chaptered.
1. Korra & Bolin

_Author's Note: Life as a university student has spoiled me; the first twenty minutes of this endeavor were consumed in coming up with a suitable title, and all of them – arguably, even this one – sounded like titles for research papers. Writing for Korra instead of Aang is a bit of a leap, and those who have read my other work will agree that this piece tastes different. Of course, as writers we are under a constant metamorphosis, becoming "better and better," changing our voices based on what we have just read, deciding we don't like adverbs, wondering what to do with ideas that won't leave our heads… That said, *please* review me, since this is experimental, and I read any and all feedback that makes its way into my inbox. Truthfully, though it flatters me to make it to the favorite's list, it is much more helpful to the aspiring daydreamer to receive reviews. _

_The characterization of the show was underdeveloped as a result of the series' length. I admit openly that I am still not entirely sure *who* the characters are, and this is the beauty of an amnesia device, as it allows us to reinvent for ourselves. _

_As always, smile often, and happy reading! – scorpiaux_

* * *

A week after their failed attack, Bolin wobbled into Korra's room with a large, rectangular aquarium made of crude glass. It was thick and heavy, speckled with air bubbles that gave away the poor workmanship, and weighed the better end of twenty kilograms. Bolin had not thought to put off filling it until later. Instead, he had dunked the glass into the sea, threw in several fistfuls of soft beach pebbles, and used his brother's net to fill the tank with eight large-eyed zebra-minnows, their gills gaping and strong, their bodies sleek.

"There," he had proclaimed to himself, clapping his muddy hands in triumph. "Perfect, perfect." He stood at arm's length to admire the rudimentary beauty of the fish and the water and the bumpy glass. He smiled with satisfaction and was on his way. It was Katara's words this morning that had stirred Bolin's gift-giving mood. According to the old healer, Korra had finally opened her eyes and spoke.

"She was awake for about five minutes," Katara reported. "She asked for water, drank, and fell asleep." She had warned the boys and Asami – as well as Tenzin's children – not to disturb Korra in the recovery process, but few things could deter Bolin's generosity or optimism.

This was reason enough for the boy to bring Korra a gift. It was a must. Now that things were looking up, Bolin thought it necessary to celebrate. Not a single good thing had happened to him or his brother since Amon stole their bending – Bolin insisted on the word 'steal' – and Korra's recovery was an omen that their suffering would soon come to a close.

The water in the tank swayed as Bolin placed the gift on a wooden table near the door, where Katara had left volumes of healing manuals and ancient sketches. He was careful to remove the books so the water wouldn't ruin them. Then he approached Korra, asleep on her back with the comforter drawn to her chin. Her cot was low, and he got on his knees to get closer to her.

She breathed without interruption, her eyelids heavy with sleep, her full lips relaxed, giving her the illusion of aloofness and reserve. Hesitantly, Bolin touched her forehead with the backs of his fingers, surprised that she was cool despite the airless room, the high sun that was heating the end of the cot through the window, and the comforter full of insulating duck feathers.

"Hey," he started in a whisper. "So… I know you're probably…you know, still asleep, and unconscious, and everything…" Korra's eyebrow twitched and she turned her face towards him, eyes shut tight, before Bolin continued, "I brought you a gift! I mean, it's nothing really, just a tank with some fish in it. But! It looks really cool. In the light. Even in this light."

Korra's healing room was dark despite the window and the lamps. Electricity, considered an invention of luxury, had yet to find its way to the South Pole. Instead, Katara and the other healers had spotted the walls with wax candles behind ornamented glass. The effect was more disturbing than it was attractive, and as a result the room remained dim, its brightest hours appearing only briefly in the morning.

Bolin sighed, his chest and shoulders deflating. "The only way you're gonna see this thing is if you wake up, you know," he said. "So…wake up! Everyone misses you. I mean, I probably miss you the most, just saying. But still, everyone misses you, I got you a gift, and you have to save the world and stuff." He was listing on his fingers. "That's three things," he exclaimed, "right off the bat!"

Korra snored and turned her face; the act itself robbed Bolin of all his steam. He sighed again, defeated, and stood up, stretching his arms over his head as he walked to the door.

"Hey."

Bolin froze and spun on his heels. The sight knocked the wind out of him. Korra sat up, her blue eyes wide as she rubbed her temples, her breasts peeking up from behind the comforter. He dashed to her side without hesitation.

"Yes!" he said, pulling a naked Korra into a series of tight hugs. "Yes! Yes! Hey! You're awake! Did you hear what I said? About my present?" He broke away and pointed over his shoulder. "There it is! It's for you. I'm so glad you're awake! I knew you'd wake up if I came. I missed you!" Overwhelmed and entertained by his own excitement, Bolin didn't notice Korra's baffled look as he pulled her close or conversed with her. This was also the reason he didn't think twice before kissing Korra's cheek in relief, his eagerness well-intentioned but not so well received.

"Gross!" she said at last, pushing the boy away with both hands. Bolin stumbled backwards, tripping on his own knees, and landed on his back. Korra held her arm over her breasts. She tried to stand up. Instantly, she noticed a dull pain in her lower back that kept her pinned to the cot, and she looked up at Bolin. He was on his knees again, his hands up in defense.

"What's wrong?" he asked, offering his smile again. "Was it the kiss? It was the kiss, right? Too much?" Bolin hadn't noticed Korra's nakedness until now, and he blushed a deep red before turning his face. "Right! Naked. Okay…sorry about that…"

"I wanted to ask where the bathroom is," she answered crossly. "But apparently I can't even get up. Who is in charge here?" She looked about the room, her eyes darting from the lamps to the healing books, to Bolin's aquarium and back to his pink face. She looked at her hands and arms. Her left shoulder was wrapped in bandages to the elbow. Her right forearm was glistening with a balm that she guessed treated burns. Korra thought to remove the comforter and check her legs but she could feel her own nakedness under the blanket, and Bolin's presence made her shy and unsure. Fear took the place of irritation and the girl broke down, moved back into her pillow and pulled the comforter over her breasts. She asked again, quietly, "Who is in charge here?"

Bolin blinked. "Katara is in charge." He had elected to sit cross-legged, a good meter away from the cot, but even from this distance he could detect Korra's uncertainty. "Hey, are you okay? Don't you remember Katara?"

Korra simply looked at him. He didn't know it, but she was focusing on his chin, unable to meet his eyes.

He paused, his voice husky. "Don't…don't you remember me?"

She grunted in frustration. She pulled the blanket over her face and disappeared under the sheets. "What's happening?" she asked, but it was muffled, and to Bolin it sounded indecipherable. He suddenly felt just as lost as Korra, and he looked at his open palms in his lap, wondering what to do next.

"Do you remember Mako?" the boy tried hopefully. "Remember? Dark, brooding. You guys kissed and he was dating Asami and you were supposedly dating me? C'mon, you gotta remember that. I know I do!"

"Can you please go get this Katara person?" Korra asked loudly from her spot. "I have to talk to a healer. My back is killing me. I want to get dressed. I need to pee."

"Sure, sure, I can do that!" He scrambled to his feet and ran towards the hallway without a second thought. It was beyond his hands now, he thought, and when he saw the aquarium as he was leaving, he felt his gut tighten, disappointed that his optimistic efforts were often met with unexpected, unwelcome twists. He stopped and stood limply at the door, supporting his weight on the doorframe. He spoke without facing Korra, afraid to embarrass her again. "You're going to be okay, okay?" he said. "The thing is, you were in a bad fight, and you're still a little shaken up."

There was a pause in which Bolin heard Korra readjusting her sheets. When he turned to her again, he noticed she had tied her frizzy curls back, revealing soft, bruised shoulders. The blanket covered the expanse between her neck and her breasts and Bolin swallowed. "That's all?" she asked. Her eyes were bright, but he was unsure if it was hope or tears.

"That's all," he promised. He grinned with all his teeth. "Maybe you don't remember what happened," he said, holding his hands out, "but just so you know, everyone missed you."

She grimaced. The bandages on her left arm had loosened with her activity. "How… how long was I out?"

Bolin answered without hesitation, "A week and two days and four hours," and Korra laughed, startled and pleased. Glad he had lightened the mood, Bolin returned to the task at hand. "I'll find Katara and bring her back," he called from the hallway. "No worries!"

After he left, Korra took in the décor of the room, her eyes landing at last on the bumpy tank and the zebra-minnow inside. She smiled to herself at the discovery, remembering what the boy had said – what was his name? – that the tank was a gift.

"Gift for what?" she wondered aloud. It was true that her confusion felt like a tomb, a dark and tangible cage for which she held no key, but her primary concern was her body.

With the boy gone, she lifted the sheets slightly and peered under them, squinting and scanning for injuries. Her left side seemed to have taken the worst of the fall. Not only was her shoulder bandaged up, but her left thigh and foot were wrapped in similar bandages, and it concerned the girl that there were dark stains over her knee, a sure symbol of fresh blood. Korra made a face at her luck and sat up, careful to cover her breasts and arms in case the boy returned early. She couldn't remember ever sleeping naked, but since she couldn't remember Katara or the eager boy, she found herself unreliable, and tried to focus instead on the fish swimming in circles in their tank, some of them swimming close to the bottom and dislodging the colored pebbles from their resting place.


	2. Asami & Lin

The injustice that had unfolded itself on their group caused Asami more grief than the disappearance of her father, and as the next logical step, she took up smoking. There was nothing better to do and she could afford it. Those two reasons dressed themselves in suits and stood sweetly at her lips whenever Mako or Lin chastised her behavior as unhealthy and destructive.

With Bolin searching for "the perfect gift," and Mako drowning his own sorrow in restless exercise, Asami found herself in the company of a cigarette. And Lin. The healing lodge was the largest building in the South Pole, and Asami noticed as she stood on the back balcony that she wouldn't mind eventually living here. The air was cleaner than the air in the city – ironic to think as she wrapped her lips around the soft tobacco filter – and the view was calm no matter where she found herself looking. Truth be told, nothing here reminded her of Republic City, and this was a large blessing in itself.

"You're going to kill yourself," Lin said, lifting her head from the paper. She wagged her hand in front of her nose and made a face.

A few of the patients were allowed to relax on the back balcony, but they rarely did, detesting the frigid ceramic tile and the often harsh wind that tugged at scarves and ruined hairstyles. Lin, her outfit weighing more than the ceramic and her hair as stubborn as her spirit, found peace here. The isolation allowed her to forget how much she missed her bending and how much she regretted not being the one to kill Amon. Though interrupted with bouts of smoking, Lin truly enjoyed Asami's company, and her advice came with good intentions.

"I won't kill myself," replied the younger woman, flicking the ash expertly. She repeated the automatic response. "There is nothing better to do. I can afford it." Then she took a seat near Lin and looked over her shoulder. "What's in the news?"

"Don't sit that close if you're going to smoke."

"It's almost finished now."

Lin straightened the paper. "Equalists in all the major cities. A few sad stories from the Northern Water Tribe in the Editorials. Republic City recently named Equalist capital." Lin paused. "I didn't think this paper had a political affiliation at first," she admitted. "But it does."

"Every paper does."

Asami breathed deep, snuffing the cigarette out on the low balcony rail. Political affiliation was something her father had taught her at a young age, when he was still being reprimanded for his inventions – safety concerns, costs, classism, and the like. Back then, every paper in the city had either adored her father, calling him a modern scientist working for the betterment of the common man, or a monster whose only interest was making the rich richer. How those two contradictory ideas could exist at once never ceased amazing his daughter, but now she felt she understood, for she herself loved her father and simultaneously hated him.

Lin pulled her out of her thoughts with a flat grunt. "Your boyfriend is here," she said, and Asami squinted over the tundra. The snow and the sky were large, clear, and bright; the scene made her heart leap, and sure enough, there was Mako, barely a dot on the horizon, jogging back to the lodge.

"He isn't my boyfriend," Asami reported weakly, and though she hated herself for it, she felt her hands reach up to her forehead. She held her hair in her hands. "We're growing apart."

Lin raised an eyebrow but didn't answer. She pretended to continue reading. Mako nodded at them and went inside without speaking. His shirt was soaked, his brow furrowed, and though Asami could have blamed his ignorance on exhaustion, she knew he was going inside to ask for updates on Korra.

"It surprises me," she said breathlessly, "how much I've started to hate him." She lit another cigarette and stood up, afraid Lin would see the water in her eyes.

"Hate is a strong word," Lin answered. "You're confused and you're young." She laughed shortly – it sounded like a hum – before adding, with confidence, "In truth, those words are synonyms."

"You don't understand." When Lin looked up, she saw that Asami's hand, resting in a limp fashion over the rail, cradling her cigarette between forefinger and middle finger, was trembling.

"What is there to understand?" Lin asked. She was careful not to raise her voice, careful not to be too cynical. She had seen these romantics damage Asami, change her from the inside out. It was almost as though Asami had also lost a form of bending since the rise of the Equalists.

"I slept with him." It was sudden, and Asami realized that the matter wasn't any of Lin's business – but who else was there to tell? Her protective father had extinguished the possibility of childhood friends, and her own mother wasn't here to comfort or console her. Lin, quite literally the next best thing, was – by default – the only witness to Asami's troubles. The possibility of reaching out to Korra would occur to Asami later, after the avatar would wake up, her amnesia deeming her a simpleton and no longer a threat, but for now, everything was Lin. And Asami was crying. "I slept with him," she repeated quietly, and for a while it was all she could say, unable to believe it and devastated at the truth.

Lin stood up, the paper falling to the tiles below, and took Asami in her arms. It was awkward at first, as Lin was not a master in these matters, but Lin found that Asami easily twisted herself to fit the older woman's arms. She wept there for a while, Lin stroking the ends of her hair.

"Am I stupid?" Asami asked at last. "I feel so stupid."

"No," Lin answered sharply. "You must never think that."

She cried, "I can't help it! I can't help it!" But when Asami turned to hug Lin again, the woman stopped her, taking her by both shoulders and holding her at arm's length.

"Look at me," Lin demanded.

She was surprised to find Asami obeying. Her eyes were reddened and wet and her lower lip trembled, but she held fast, and though tears continued to sting her eyes, she didn't break the stare.

"Good," Lin said. "Do you think you're stupid?"

"Yes—"

"Why?" Lin asked before Asami could continue. "Because you fell in love? Because you're young? Or because you can't read and write? Can't do math? Think about the definition of stupid." Lin caught her voice rising and she paused to collect herself. "Asami, you are not stupid. These are the years of your life. You may consider it a mistake, but Fate doesn't close a door without opening others."


	3. Korra & Katara

_Reviews appreciated! Many thanks for the wonderful feedback._

* * *

Though time and habit forced Katara not to dwell on her loneliness, she sometimes found herself feeling as though she was still fourteen, alone and uncertain on a blank tundra. Sokka's death had arguably been harder than Aang's – he was the only one who knew what it was like to grow up in a circle of some fifteen families, igloos conjoined, not knowing when the next Fire Nation raid would take away more members of the tribe, not knowing how long Gran Gran's health would keep her alive and walking. The dread, thought Katara, was the worst part of the war. Not the damage, not the casualties. Dread was as common as snow back home, back then, when she was young and skinny and when Sokka thought he was president of the whole South Pole.

The dread made them both crazy in their own way. Sokka suffered well into adulthood. He would wake up, reach for Suki in the dark, his eyes wide and his breath sharp. He would walk around their apartment like a mad man, check on the twins in their crib, look over the balcony at the lights and people below. "Good," he'd say. He had insisted to live in a city his entire life, wanting to be where people walked and spoke and breathed. In the city, he could never be alone.

Katara didn't know it, but she went through the same sentimental tick with Aang. It was a habit that would repeat itself in yearly cycles for the decades they spent together. The threat of her old loneliness would bubble up like an old, angry soup, and Katara would wake up gasping, groping for her husband's arm in the dark. "Oh, good. Aang. Good." He would pull her close to his body, stroke her hair with his free hand while the other cradled her shoulders. "Don't ever leave, please," she begged, and though it was too dark to see, he could hear the tears in her voice. "Don't ever leave. Aang. Oh, Aang."

With Sokka and Aang both gone, Katara could only look forward to the occasional visit from her children. Healing patients and teaching at the healing school was enough to keep her busy in her old age, but her body was catching up with her, and her frailties often bit at her heels, a reminder that she was – in fact – no longer fourteen, no longer agile or full of energy. Her back had begun to stoop years ago, her hearing was beyond healing, and her eyesight was fogged with cataracts, a form that she could fix herself if it was ailing a patient, but that she couldn't fix on herself. Her life, full of contradictions and dead-ends, was watered down to this: healing patients, teaching lessons, and haphazardly offering advice when the opportunity presented itself. Death, thought Katara, was welcome. This thought in itself caused her months of frowning and sighs.

Yet, with Korra at her fingertips now, Katara suddenly felt at peace. Aang's presence was definitely in this girl, Katara decided, and the idea that Korra was her late husband's incarnation made Katara smile. Korra looked up shyly, noticed Katara's stare and her smile, and turned her attention back to her lap.

"Am I going to be okay?"

Katara was working on the girl's temples, shifting a string of spirit water through Korra's hair and just over her ears. The uncertainty in the girl's voice assured Katara that Korra's memory was shot – this was not the strong, sure girl running away from home three months ago.

"I'm still checking," Katara said. She tapped the girl's good knee gently. "It feels like two things are causing the memory block."

Bolin, standing at the door, asked loudly, "What two things? Can I come in?"

"It's better that you stay there," Katara called over her shoulder. She said to Korra in a low tone, with a smile, "Are you sure you don't remember him? He's quite a memorable boy."

"I don't remember anything," Korra disclosed. She knitted her brows, her hands kneading the hem of her comforter. "What two things are causing the block? Can you fix it?"

Katara led the water into the small basin she'd toted to the room. The splash echoed, and Katara focused her energy instead on healing Korra's left foot. She untied the bandages and asked Korra to look away. Katara used a deep red tea she had prepared earlier, good for cuts and skin. Korra looked at the tea and her eyes widened predictably. This treatment always looked like bloodbending.

Some of Korra's old mischievousness was beginning to make a debut. She crossed her arms. "How come you still have your bending?" she asked. "I can't bend. Is it because I lost my memory?"

Bolin and Katara looked at one another.

Korra sat up, her eyes frantic. "What? Why are you looking at each other like that?"

"It's Amon," Bolin said, just loudly enough for her to hear him. "A really bad guy. He took everyone's bending away."

"He succeeded for the most part," Katara said. "But he was a bloodbender. So when he came for me, I stopped him."

Korra laughed; it was forced and sudden. Desperately, she tried to sit up further, but the dull pain in her back grew worse, and she sat still, frozen, tears in her eyes. "You're joking," she said, grimacing. "Why didn't anyone stop him? I mean, isn't that what we have an Avatar for? This person clearly isn't doing his job if some creepy bloodbender can waltz up to the cities of the world and just _rob_ every one of their bending!"

Katara raised a brow, the water falling back to the basin. Bolin slapped his forehead from the doorway. Unable to hear anymore, he turned around and left, his footsteps echoing in the small room.

"Korra," the older woman said, "tell me the last date you remember."

The girl was quiet for a few moments, her eyes scanning the ceiling for an answer, before she stated, with acute certainty, "Last I remember, it was August… I was with my parents in their igloo on the northern tip of the South Pole. I was fourteen. I remember I could waterbend. But now…" She looked at herself, covered in bandages, her body far different than what she remembered. The most notable changes were her breasts and hips, appendages she did not recall at all. She blushed and turned her face. "I mean… I don't know. My body. It's different. And it's not just that. I feel like I'm forgetting something important. My name's Korra. I'm from the South Pole. But there's a third piece too."

"You're the Avatar," Katara said softly. Korra dropped her jaw but didn't speak. "I know you don't remember," she continued. "I realize it may come as a shock, but you've known you were the Avatar since you were very young." Katara made a face, her brows downcast, her mouth pulled into a deep frown. This news was disturbing. Having the last two years of Korra's life disappear was one thing. But misplacing her identity? This made the matter more complicated.

Noticing that Korra was unable to speak, Katara continued, "The two blocks right now are spiritual and physical. You suffered a bad blow to the head while battling this man. But your connection to the Avatar State was also severed, possibly because you triggered it while fighting him. I am going to do what I can to ease the physical part – that is my specialty, and I believe you will get better with time. But the spiritual piece of this puzzle is yours. You have to find yourself again…"

Korra was crying, another activity out of her character, and Katara moved closer to the girl and took her into her arms. She patted her back and kissed her temples. Korra sobbed in heaves, her shoulders collapsing, her hands on her eyes. She was mumbling but it was indecipherable, and her tears spilled out from between her fingers, down her face, spotting the bandages and the comforter.

"You will be fine, my dear," Katara promised, holding the girl tight. "You are strong. This whole matter will be settled in a few days, possibly weeks."

"Why?" Korra asked crossly, pulling away long enough to wipe her face on her arm. She cried, "Why me? It can't be me."

Katara looked into the girl's eyes, a strange lustrous color, dark blue and grey, flecks of silver near the rims. The Avatar had to be in there somewhere, Katara thought. It would just take time.

"Be thankful you are alive," Katara said, drying Korra's tears with the base of her palm. "This is the perfect place for you to get better. Amon is dead. You have the world's only bender and greatest healer alive at your service. And you are surrounded by many people who love you."

It was then Asami appeared in the doorway, red-faced, with a small package in her arms.


End file.
